


A Special Kind of Betrayal

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Such betrayal could only come from someone you trusted, perfectly positioned to plunge the knife into your defenceless back.--In which a pleasant outing turns into something else entirely





	A Special Kind of Betrayal

Such betrayal could only come from someone you trusted, perfectly positioned to plunge the knife into your defenceless back[1] . Rincewind gazed mournfully at the scene in front of him, feeling the phantom pangs of that knife imbedded within his own back.

“I’m so sorry Rincewind,” Twoflower cried, wringing his hands together, his normal cheerful face crestfallen and twisted in shame.

Maybe things were different on the Counterweight Continent, and Rincewind shuddered at the mere thought of the anarchy and lawlessness that would invoke. Ankh-Morpork was a peculiar kind of governed chaos, this had been made very clear from his accidental adventures around the Disc, but he had thought he would be not exactly safe, but safer in his home city[2].

The sun was warm overhead, the field stretching out below them basked in a soft golden glow, tree rustling softly overhead and definitely not speaking, which was a benefit. Ankh Morpork was silhouetted below them, a fact Twoflower had called ‘delightful’ seven times and had taken enough pictures of that the demon had thrown open the hatch to yell at him, face purpling in anger.

“Give me something with some variety!” He had yelled, shaking a tiny paintbrush, before he retreated back inside the box, slamming the lid shut and ignoring Twoflower’s pleas.

Twoflower drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees, nudging his glasses up with one clumsy finger, leaving a smudge on a previously clean lens. Wordlessly, Rincewind stretched out a hand, cleaning them on his sleeve with a jerky motion before passing them back[3].

“Thank you Rincewind,” Twoflower said, still looking like a kicked puppy. It pulled on Rincewind’s heartstrings. He wanted to forgive him, wanted to make Twoflower smile again, wanted this rift in the world to be fixed. But no.

Rincewind glanced down and felt his heart shatter anew.

“After everything, we’ve been through,” he said reproachfully, shaking his head and elbowing away the Luggage who slipped closer, many feet patting down the grass and edging further onto the blanket.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t- “Twoflower’s mouth twisted, emotion colouring his words and clouding his thoughts as he began to scrabble through his pockets for the tiny dog eared book he hadn’t needed in so many years.

“I’m sorry,” Twoflower finally landed on, cautiously stretching out and lacing his fingers with Rincewind’s. The wizard couldn’t help but smile, running his thumb soothingly along the back of Twoflower’s hand.

It was a strange contrast, the hard callouses on both of Twoflower’s hands from long hours holding a quill against the cracks on Rincewind’s, steady in the face of the wizard’s tremors. It had started as a necessary way of keeping track of Twoflower, the man had a peculiar knack of drifting away from Rincewind in crowds and winding up in alarming situations.

Twoflower had grinned up at Rincewind, slightly adjusted his grip and by Rincewind’s side he had stayed, gesturing with their joined hands towards whatever caught his attention at that moment: CMOT Dibbler’s food stall, slowly weaving through the marketplace as he aimed to keep abreast of Sergeant Angua's keen nose; a group of Balancing Monks precariously wobbling on a rooftop, almost dropping the weight they were passing from hand to hand; the Luggage snapping it's lid lazily at a overconfident young thief, the boy shrieking and running straight at the nearest Watch officer for protection. Rincewind could barely remember any of it, his entire world seemingly narrowed to Twoflower's hand in his, face flushed and his heartbeat loud in his ears.

"Can you forgive me?" Twoflower asked, eyes searching Rincewind’s face for any hint of salvation.

"You ate my sandwich."

"I'll make you a new one!"

"Then I forgive you."

┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛

[1] If friendship had a defined job role, which one enterprising Dark Clerk tried to implement on a particularly slow day in Ankh-Morpork, with the Patrician away on ‘diplomatic business’ in Brindisi, backstabbing would be included as an occupational hazard. In fact, some more traditional members of society viewed it as the hallmark of a good friendship. Rincewind did not.

[2] Anyone who claimed they were completely safe in Ankh-Morpork was either mad, stupid or the best liar in the universe.

[3] Few things apparently cleaned glass like the sleeves of a wizard’s robe. This was not something Rincewind was planning on making public knowledge in Ankh-Morpork for fear of being kidnapped by the well-meaning but occasionally over enthusiastic Glassblower’s Guild.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FandomWeekly Amnesty Week #002 Prompt #002 Heartbreak


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